


To be alive, free and feel the touch of hope

by Quin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Touch-Starved Due to Past Abuse, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Past Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24125782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quin/pseuds/Quin
Summary: Fleeing from prison, Hazea hides on some random ship, not really knowing where it will take her and whether she will be truly safe from the oppressive Upaishan Empire.
Relationships: Female Pirate Captain/Female Stowaway, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: Hurt Comfort Exchange 2020





	To be alive, free and feel the touch of hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chocolatepot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatepot/gifts).



> Thanks to ArisTGD for the beta.

Her feet are burning up. Every step stings. Coarse gravel pierces her soft skin. Run, Hazea, her inner voice urges her on. Her body resists, though, doesn’t want to comply. Her mouth is dry, her tongue sticks to her gums. She wheezes, coughs, but that doesn’t get her the air she needs. She stumbles, falls on her hands, on her knees. Blood spills. Barely healed wounds rip open again.

One more scent for the hounds to pick up. Their barks no more distant, the shouts of the pursuers growing louder. Like thunder in her ears.

Don’t look behind you. To the port, to the sea. Get up. She grinds her teeth, can’t even clench her fists. Her back protests as she tries to move in an upright position. Tears are welling up in her eyes, clouding her view. She still can feel the whip lashing down, eating into her flesh.

She wipes her face. It makes it only worse. Dirt and dust make her tears simply run faster. She can’t breathe any longer. Maybe suffocating is the lesser of two evils. Then she hears a loud, booming voice.

They are here, they will get her, put her back on the rack. And then isolate her again. So lonely.

Choking back a shriek, she curls into a ball. Maybe they won’t see her.

~

When Hazea wakes, it is dark and damp. Her nose is clogged, her throat longs for water. She must have been crying herself into sleep. She wipes her face with her sleeves. Only then does she really notice that her hands are not bound. The air smells of seawater and seaweed. She senses a gentle sway in her body as if someone was rocking her back and forth. She’d made it to a ship. It had only been a nightmare, that she hadn’t made it to the harbour.

For a moment, Hazea is tempted to give into the feeling of relief. Then she sharply stops herself. Yes, she has very likely shaken off General Angra and his beasts. But she needs to remember that the henchmen of King Lochan are everywhere, only too happy to persecute and torture any and every person daring to voice a different opinion than their ruler. Like opposing the king’s tax collectors who come back more and more frequently with higher and higher demands, to finance Lochan’s extravagant palaces, his lavish parties and his campaigns against the Upaishan Empire’s neighbours, forcing more and more people into oppression.

King Lochan’s impressive naval fleet swiftly sails the waters between the many islands that make up the Empire, their strict patrols keeping enemies at bay and the Upaishan people ashore. All what Hazea can hope for is that the ghurab ship she chose as a hideout will sail to foreign territories as part of Lochan’s conquest. That she can flee in the middle of combat, seeking shelter away from all the cruelty she has experienced.

She huddles against a wooden barrel, hoping she’s well concealed in the depths of the store. During the first days of the ghurab’s journey, Hazea barely dares to move. Is as quiet as a mouse, but flinches at the slightest sound. The sound of heavy footsteps over her head, the shouts of the sailors, the wind batting at the sails. Days and night pass by without notice. Hazea never sees the sun nor the moon, it’s almost as if she is back in her prisoner’s cell in Abjun’s fortress.

She can stretch her back, move her arms and legs even though her body still feels twisted, crammed. Nobody is keeping her forcefully awake over and over again, there are no burning hot pincers, no one is depriving her of water and food.

As soon as Hazea’s nerves settle a little, she begins to carefully investigate her surroundings at close range.

The barrel next to her contains fresh water though the first time she attempts to drink, she almost collapses. Too big is her thirst, her throat too greedy, the amount too much. She coughs, grabs the top of the barrel, spills water, shakes. Then, Hazea has to lie down, close her eyes, all she can hear is her heavy breathing.

Thus, when suddenly a booted fudge nudges her side, Hazea shrieks with terror. She opens her eyes, squints against the incoming sunlight, tries to see who has discovered her. All she can recognize is a thick woollen coat in dark blue colour furnished with several golden medals and… the emblem of the Upaishan navy.

They have found her, they have found her. The ship she thought was her escape made her a prisoner again. Angra must have sent word to the fleet out there. Hazea knows she should get up, push that captain away, sprint past. But instead she does nothing, freezes. The memory of her tormentors pulling her nails out, the cloth on her face soaked with water over and over again, is too fresh. Even worse, her mind’s eye floods Hazea with images of the pain and humiliation to come. She has heard that other female prisoners who have fled will be paraded around and tortured in front of the public, possibly abused and raped by King Lochan personally. If she’s already doomed, what will prevent the captain of this ghurab to play cruel games for his pleasure as well? Have her walk the plank, keelhaul her?

Hazea tries to hide her prisoner’s branding, but the thought has occurred to her too late. There is already a rough hand on her upper arm where the numbers 197487 betray that Hazea is an escapee. The calloused fingers running over her scars are surprisingly gentle. Hazea holds her breath. Strong arms lift her up. She closes her eyes, but still nothing happens. She is not sure what that is that is supposed to happen, but the missing shouts, the lack of forceful jerks are not within her expectations.

Carefully, Hazea opens her eyes again. Her gaze meets calm eyes, relaxed lips which gives her opposite’s face a genuinely friendly look. Hazea can’t exactly pinpoint what it is, whether it’s the tousled strands of hair that peep out beneath the captain’s hat or the many creases and food stains on the uniform. Somehow there was something not quite right about this Upaishan naval officer. A true follower of King Lochan would never look that dishevelled.

Hazea wonders if she is dreaming. Everyone knows that in dreams weird things happen. Like the captain being a woman. Hazea is being held against her breast, so she knew it was a woman holding her, right? But women were never part of the Empire’s army; too soft, too weak, their only purpose to bear children.

Hazea is slightly confused. Maybe it’s Lochan’s and Angra’s latest trick, trying to lull her to believe she is safe by using a woman to bait her. If a woman like Hazea can instil rebellious thoughts into the citizens of Upaishan, maybe they can acknowledge after all what women are capable of.

She pinches herself, then mentally berates herself. Dreaming about pain can still be painful. She has had enough nightmares to know that this is true.

While Hazea has been pondering about dreams and reality, the other woman has carried her into a rather spacious cabin. There is a room for heavy oak desk on the left, a large dining table with eight chairs was placed in front of the aft windows, to the right a hammock softly swings to the gentle rock of the sea and several sea chests are secured against a wall.

Hazea is carefully placed on a large plush armchair. The captain remains at her eye level and Hazea realizes that her eyes are of a light but intense blue. They remind her of the sky after a tropical storm has cleared away the tension in the air.

The other woman moves very slowly around her, so that Hazea can almost predict every move the captain is going to make. Hazea thinks about it, and the only conclusion she comes to is that the captain doesn’t want to startle her.

“My name is Allana,” she finally tells Hazea in a low voice before rolling up the left sleeve of her coat. Hazea gasps as she takes in an ugly array of old fire wounds. And prominently among them sits the number 089945.

“You...,” Hazea stutters, unsure of what to say and how to control her shaky voice. The scars, the prisoner’s branding, they all look too real, too familiar.

“I once was like you,” Allana says, “having the wrong opinion, not settling for the scraps and chains Lochan tries to sell us as what is the best for the people. I revolted against his suppression, was caught, tortured and fled. But I will never be silenced. I stole this ship, this uniform.”

Her voice turns into steel as she continues to talk, but Hazea doesn’t feel unsettled by its sound at all. She listens with growing fascination.

“My fellows and me, we try to get to the heart of the Empire and rip it out step by step. We lure their ships by looking familiar, pretending to be a ghurab in distress and once they’ve fallen into our trap, we show them our real flag, taking their gold, silver and everything else which is valuable. We try to keep the enemy’s ship as undamaged possible. Soon, we will hopefully have a nice pirate fleet to strike back again and again.”

Allana’s eyes grow with passion as she speaks with conviction. Somehow, it sparks a small flame inside Hazea. Something she hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Sorry for talking so much,” Allana apologizes. “You must have been through a lot. I should leave you alone for some time to process what has happened. I will send for some warm washing water and for food.”

“Wait,” Hazea cries out as Allana gets up and moves toward the door. The captain turns around, but Hazea still misses the right words.

“I am Hazea,” she finally utters, though it’s actually not what she has wanted to say.

“It’s good to see you free and alive, Hazea.” Allana smiles at her before walking outside.

Only when Hazea is alone again, she understands that she doesn’t want to be left alone. Allana probably just wanted to give her room, so that Hazea can feel secure.

Yes, she hasn’t fallen into the hands of the Empire. Somehow Hazea is very sure of it. Allana’s words have rung true and a kindness shimmered through her passionate speech that Hazea has never seen in any of King Lochan’s enforcers, a passion she has only seen in those that despise the Upaishan ruler.

What rattles her is the sudden feeling of loneliness. The seemingly endless time in prison where no kind soul spoke to her, no one that would take her into her arms, let her know that there would be a happy ending for it all, just long days of isolation, always accompanied by anxiety and fear, pain, punishment and deprivation.

Even when Hazea was hidden in the belly of Allana’s ghurab, her nerves never quite settled in dread of being caught.

It is somehow strange, although Hazea has shaken of her pursuers, the emptiness of it all tries to reel her in and engulf her.

Tears break free and Hazea wraps her arms around herself. She doesn’t know if it is to protect herself, to give her all the embraces she has missed out or if it’s something else she can’t name yet. Until now she has never realized how much one could yearn for human nearness, for a like-minded soul who makes all the heaviness of the world go away with a simple gesture of affection. She cries and cries and can’t seem to stop even though the flood wants to drown her. The waves of sorrow are crashing above her head and she is struggling to break free.

Until there’s suddenly the light touch of fingers against her cheek as someone catches her tears, wipes them away. The loneliness that has been eating at Hazea finally throws all caution into the wind as she looks pleadingly at Allana. Still, her voice can’t seem to form the words to utter her wishes. Yet, by some miracle Allana understands. She lifts Hazea up, then settles onto the armchair, carefully placing Hazea on her lap.

At first, Hazea’s body is a little rigid, unsure of how to adjust to the new situation. As if it needs to re-learn that touch doesn’t mean suffering, that touch can be light as a feather, a calming breeze for a haunted soul. Slowly, so slowly, Hazea’s muscles relax one by one, making her slump against Allana’s large frame. Hazea can sense the warmth radiating off the captain’s skin, drawing her closer and closer. Allana doesn’t say a word, and Hazea realizes that nothing needs to be said when the language of the body exists.

Allana gently rubs her fingertips against Hazea’s scalp, the soothing massage making Hazea forget the time when her guards forcefully chopped off her hair, mocking her. Now, there’s only the sweet sensation of skin on skin. It is the first time in a long time in which Hazea can reconnect to herself with something like pleasure. It comes to her as a surprise, but it’s certainly not unwelcome.

Hazea lets out a small, content sigh. Through her own experience, Allana must have correctly guessed the one safe spot to touch Hazea. However, once stirred, come to rise, Hazea’s yearning can’t be put back in prison. She is aware of her wounds, but even the newer ones can’t hold her back. Hazea presses herself against Allana, trying to find as many places as possible to make contact with the other woman. Allana covers Hazea and herself with her coat, so they have a huge, but cosy makeshift woollen cave to hide them.

It makes Hazea feel even more at ease. Comfortable enough to be so bold to place one arm first, then the other one, too, around Allana’s waist, asking for an embrace. She doesn’t need to wait long for the reply. Allana cradles Hazea to her chest, so that Hazea can relish in Allana’s scent. The pirate captain smells after seaweed and salt, after sunshine and rain, like the winds her ships ride on. It’s the promise of freedom, yet with the reassurance of always returning to a safe harbour.

It’s a place where Hazea can finally allow herself to rest. Listening to Allana’s steady heart beat has a soothing effect and her eyes almost fall shut. She forces them open though because what if Allana goes away while she sleeps?

Allana cups her cheek and looks at Hazea in earnest. “I’m not leaving,” she says as if she has read Hazea’s mind. “As long as you want me to stay, I’m staying with you. Don’t worry about me having other duties, my first mate is capable enough of taking them over for a while.”

Hazea opens her mouth, wants to ask Allana something, but it is still difficult for her to talk and ask for something she deems as a favour. Allana sends her an encouraging smile and puts her hands back into Hazea’s, telling her to go ahead. Hazea takes them and moves one of them to the back of her neck and the other one onto her shoulders.

Allana strokes Hazea’s neck, runs her hands over Hazea’s muscles to ease the last bit of tension away. Small content sounds escape her lips, but Hazea doesn’t stop herself. It’s good to hear that she has recovered her voice for pleasure. Soon, Allana joins that voice as she starts to sign. Her song is rich, deep, in the words of the old Arahni language Lochan has forbidden. It is the tale of women living together in harmony with Mother Earth, peacefully living on the lands they have been given.

Hazea hasn’t heard this song since her childhood. It brings back joyful memories of wandering the woods and dancing on the shore, of couples laughing and loving. Maybe one day Allana and she can have that again. For now though, Hazea lets Allana’s tune carry her to the land of dreams.

~

Sunlight streams in and tickles Hazea awake. For a moment, she is confused where she is. However, she doesn’t panic. Something in the back of her mind tells Hazea that things are alright and that she can take a slow breath, open her eyes, take in her surroundings.

Covered in a large blanket, she finds herself in a hammock. It seems a bit narrow and Hazea reaches behind her back to adjust the pillow. Only then, she realizes that her pillow is made out of a human body. Hazea’s head rests on Allana’s chest. It is a good place she notes. Her heart takes a little leap when it dawns onto her that Allana has kept to her promise not to leave Hazea alone. The other woman has spooned herself around Hazea, so they can both fit in Allana’s hammock.

Hazea is torn between keeping still and soaking up all of Allana’s body heat, and turning around to satisfy her curiosity. She doubts that she will ever be able to quench her thirst for nearness, but then curiosity gets the better of Hazea. Risking that she will wake Allana, Hazea moves around, so that she can view Allana’s face.

Her sleepy hair is even more tousled than it was under the cap. Hazea wants to run her fingers through Allana’s thick lush strands to arrange them around her face. Out of her stolen uniform, Allana looks even more like a pirate. Her mouth is crooked in a mischievous smile the devil would envy, her eyebrows are arched high, showing her to be a woman of determinacy. It doesn’t unsettle Hazea at all. Quite the contrary. It’s somehow another part in a greater whole that gives her piece of mind.

And it makes Hazea feel alive. To lie here, marvel at the existence of another human being and not to have to a lock a part of herself away. She refuses to question if what she already feels is adequate or inadequate, whether it is the right moment or not. Hazea knows that Allana will wake up soon and that she has duties where she has to leave Hazea alone, but right now she wants to enjoy the now and not think about the future.

Finally, Allana’s eyelashes flutter open and she instantly focuses on Hazea. As if she is not the least bit surprised to find Hazea awake and looking at Allana intently. She loudly yawns, and suddenly Hazea has to yawn as well. Allana chuckles, then pulls Hazea even closer, so that she can nestle up to Allana.

“We don’t need to get up yet,” she announces as she rests her head on top of Hazea’s shoulder. “We can spend all day here, and do whatever you want, Hazea, or nothing of that at all.”

Hazea pauses a little as she thinks of how to word her reply. Allana has suggested exactly that what is on Hazea’s mind, but she neither wants to look greedy nor ungrateful.

“Thank you for staying with me all night,” she finally says. “And for offering to spend the day with me. But…” Hazea bites her underlip. “Don’t you have any important tasks set? I should be fine and with what the Upaishan Empire has done to me, I am aware that anything you do to fight them should be really top priority. I mean, you could still let me sleep the next night in your hammock instead?”

Allana intertwines her fingers with Hazea’s, so that they hold hands. “I once was in a similar situation like you. A tortured escapee, free, but lost, uncertain where to go, whom to turn to. I wish I would have had someone to guide me back then, or simply to be there for me. I can see the signs on you, Hazea, the weariness, the reluctance. But please just know, you never need to hold back when with me. There is nothing such as unreasonable demands after what you’ve been through.”

“I can give you some information I’ve gathered during my time as prisoner. It could be valuable?” Hazea offers tentatively. “Make myself useful and such things. I know nothing of sailing, but there are surely enough tasks I could help with.” She lets out a small sigh.

“Nonsense.” Allana rolls her eyes, but it is a well-meant eyeroll as she squeezes Hazea’s hands reassuringly. “If you want to provide information, do it because you feel like it, not because you think it is a must to stay on board. No duties for you but the duty to heal, relax and be comforted.”

Hazea suddenly has to laugh because Allana’s stern face is kind of endearing. Her look is fiery, but it is a fire that warms, not burns.

“Aye Aye, Captain.” She frees her hands and tries to salute Allana, but her movement gives the hammock an unexpected swing and they both fall out with Hazea landing on Allana.

Even though a tiny part of her worries that Allana might have gotten a bump, Hazea can’t stop laughing. As the tension leaves her body with each giggle, so does her mind relax. Allana shows no intention of letting go of Hazea even now. Instead she strokes Hazea’s back while Hazea buries her face into Allana’s hair. The slightly wavy strands tickle Hazea’s face and Hazea laughs a little more until she just lies contently on top of the other woman.

Allana kisses the top of Hazea’s head, her lips feeling delightfully sensuous against Hazea’s scalp. It holds the promise of a bright future, of days and nights spend cuddled together, of a bond that even the Upaishan Empire won’t be able to break.


End file.
